Candy and Corn
by x russian x roulette x
Summary: A Wolf/Fox double feature. Very educational.


Fox, currently 26 years old but dressed like a five-year-old schoolboy, sat in his suspiciously-without-a-canon-location dining room. His dining table, bought at IKEA©, was covered in all assortments of sweets: hard candy, soft candy, chocolates, caramels, cookies, you name it he had it. He surveyed his full table, which was only set up to feed him, and licked his lips for the first time of many in this fic.

This was all in the name of therapy, you see. Fox loved candy because it reminded him of his father, and he loved his father, so by using the rules of algebra he loved candy. When he was five and dressed like a schoolboy daily, his father would often take him down to the dime store where they would buy lollipops, and then they would go to the park to watch the sky and talk about aeronautical ships because that is apparently normal.

So on days like this, which was the anniversary of James' (Fox's father's) death('s), which happened once a year, Fox would often binge on the sweets that so reminded him of his father to fill the love that had gone missing from his life when his father was so cruelly ripped from his life that all the love went missing from his life. I guess. He was so empty inside, and now he would fill that emptiness.

Like a racehorse beginning to piss, McCloud began eating. He plucked one cookie from a brightly colored paper plate to his right, then began eating it, delicately like one of those crazy bright red toy birds that sips water. The cookie slowly disappeared behind his perfectly formed lips; after it had fully completed transformed, the vulpine wrapped his abnormally long tongue around his fingertips, tasting every crumb.

His lust for sugar quickly rising in him like a tsunami off the coast of Japan that has come to cleanse the world of J-rock bands, Fox immediately pounced on the table and began to scarf everything in sight: entire contents of assorted chocolate boxes, chocolate truffles, Tootsie Rolls©, hard fruit-flavored candy, gummy candy, marshmallows shaped like chicks; the vulpine indiscriminately stuffed these into his gullet, until his cheeks ballooned to comical proportions. Amid the orgy of sweet eating, he heard a distinctly male gruff and sexy voice clear its, I mean, his throat.

"Are you quite full yet? I've got a treat for you that I think you might find quite tasty," the voice trailed off into a most affable growl. Fox looked up from the feast of candy on his dining-room table and his baby-blue greens locked in a tense pupil-to-eye-patch fight with one dark piece of badass fashion accessory and one bright green/brown iris.

There, at the end of the table stood Wolf O'Donnell, currently 36 but dressed, _gulp_, dressed in nothing but an ab'-fab' bright pink bowtie THAT TOTALLY WENT WITH HIS GREY FUR OF COURSE and holding a bottle of Hershey's© chocolate syrup. Fox, shocked and being mute as his mouth still was full of chewed sweets, looked down and saw that the wolf was also quite aroused, sporting an erection larger than a Subway© sandwich.

"Well," said the lupine, grinning and flashing his canines like he never did before, and I **mean** _never_, "seeing as you like candy so much," he continued as he poured the chocolate syrup over his unrealistically-virile male member, "there's a chocolate-covered lollipop you can suck on. Do you think you would like that?"

Fox's face lit up like a theater marquee that was lit up, like that. Then he swallowed the massive amount of sugary bolus in his mouth, didn't suffocate thanks to divine intervention, and licked his lips with his abnormally long tongue. The sight caused Wolf to give a tiny little anticipation-moan and begin rubbing the syrup all over his penis, dribbling some onto the floor.

"Oh Wolf, now," characteristically lisping like some sex-crazed **boi **as is usually custom for whoever bottoms, Fox's mouth turned up into a smile without affecting his tone of voice at all, "let me do that. Don't waste any of that chocolate syrup," and, tenderly wrapping one hand around Wolf's massive length x massive girth that was dripping brown tasty liquid, he closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and stuck out his tongue for a big, sweet surprise…

I hate myself. I really, _really_ hate myself. I'm a miserable piece of shit and now I can't get that goddamn image out of my head and I think I want to vomit or stab myself in the eyes with a pair of scissors just to make it go away.

It's not homophobia, man, it's not homophobia at all. I just don't like that. My preference is mostly guys that have been living in dumpsters since the early nineties and have not yet heard that grunge is no longer considered cool or interesting.

With a red-rimmed eye from both the cold and lack of sleep, Wolf watched the other creatures moving beyond his field of vision.

It would probably snow soon.

He had already sorted through the entire contents of the dumpster, removing everything edible that he could eat, and now he was worried that he would have to switch and find somewhere else in the city to get a steady source of nourishment from. It was difficult to imagine, stowing away in Corneria City in the dead of winter.

'Well, you are a wanted criminal, after all.' That certainly put limitations on things he could and couldn't do.

He couldn't sleep; hadn't slept in three days, marking each time Solar has risen and set (more like the variegated light filtering through cloud cover, light and dark, light and dark) through the stains of the dumpster wall with one claw nail; three sad tally marks, doing time in a prison entirely of his own accord.

And the torture was entirely his own, too; watching other mammalians walk by, living happy lives and buying millions of brand products for themselves, or their families, and, _oh god_, looking so happy with themselves; completed.

But Wolf couldn't bring himself to hate them; normally aggressive, he had been beaten into submission by living like this for who-knows-how-long. Dumpsters, tribes of the homeless, etc. He was starving, he was cold, and he was stricken with insomnia, but there was no escaping it, not now.

All of the lupine's internal organs screamed at him, growing so loud that he eventually decided he had to escape the dumpster. "Please," he begged, mostly to the air, "please." He was unsure of what it was he wanted; anything, food, shelter, happiness, completion. "Please," his voice came out like a weak mewl and he almost didn't even recognize it.

The rim of the dumpster disappeared from under him and Wolf tumbled onto the sidewalk outside. He found he could no longer move. So he just closed his eyes and waited.

Something dull connected with his side, and then a sudden weight, like someone falling on top of him. Someone _had_ fallen on top of him.

"Oh my gosh," said a voice that somehow sounded familiar to Wolf, "sir, are you alright? Sir?"

His face was ripped away from the sidewalk and his gaze reattached to a concerned-looking orange vulpine, a white flight jacket, a red bandana. Oh no.

Fox recognized him, too. "Wolf," he gasped in validated shock.

"F-Fox," the lupine stuttered, still pleading."Oh, god, Wolf," the vulpine suddenly snapped back to concern and cradled the lupine in his arms, picking him up and transporting him somewhere.

O'Donnell got nervous. Where would McCloud take him, to the police or to the hospital? Either way, it wouldn't end well. "Fox, don't," take me anywhere, was the first phrase that was lost to his weakened state, then, "please," take me somewhere safe. Just take me somewhere safe, please.

"Don't worry, Wolf, just hang on," the vulpine huffed. Wolf could see tears beginning to form in the corners of Fox's eyes. "You'll be alright," he promised, "I'll take you somewhere safe."

Safe from who or what? After all, prison was not what Wolf really had in mind, but it was a step up from dying of exposure. Ah well, he had at least received life sentence and not immediate execution.

At the cost of his freedom, everything was okay.

Right?

One semi-conjugal visitation with Fox would prove everything. They sat at a wooden table in a sparsely decorated room, removed from guards or any sign of prison. Fox confided that he had been encouraged to bring a weapon with which to defend himself, but he told the prison security guards that he wouldn't need it.

There they sat at the table, Wolf staring at Fox, and Fox being reluctant to return the eye contact. The lupine sighed, causing the vulpine opposite him to jump slightly.

"Why," Wolf wasted no time in getting to the point, "why did you save me?"

"I couldn't," gulp, "I couldn't stand to see you alone, like that. And suffering. Wolf—" he trailed off.

The lupine blinked, one eye shutting and opening. What did he mean by 'couldn't stand to see [him] alone _like that_.'

"I've been alone, Wolf, I've been so alone," Fox looked like he was on the verge of tears again, sniffling slightly in some kind of repression technique, "ever since my father died, and, well, my friends abandoning me, and, well—" he trailed off for a second time.

Wolf frowned and simultaneously furrowed his eyebrows, his entire face going into sharp peaks and pits.

"I mean," twiddle, twiddle went the vulpine's thumbs, "I think I like you, Wolf. I've sort of, grown attached to you in some weird way. You're a great pilot, through all your bad choices of employment, but I still respect you for that," he smiled nervously.

The lupine's facial expression softened, muscles relaxing in respect to the unexpected compliment.

"I just want to help, Wolf, I just want to help you," reaching his hand across the table and placing one thumb under the lupine's eye-patch affectionately, making small repetitive trails on his cheek fur. "Isn't there anything I can do?"

"Yeah," Wolf said, suddenly standing up. "Go suck a dick."

Before Fox could react, Wolf grabbed the back of the vulpine's head and slammed his skullcap into the table. The vulpine went limp and began to bleed, his skull cracked open like a ripe piece of fruit. The room was suddenly filled with a pungent odor, not unlike a mixture of dryer lint and old beef jerky. Brain had been exposed.

"Where's your daddy now, bitch?" smirking, then the lupine broke into full maniacal laughter. Stood there, getting wet from the fox's fluid dripping off the table, laughing.

Aha, haha, ahahaha, h-ha, hahaha, haha, ah, ha. Yeah okay, I still hate myself really, I promise. I feel like a total big piece of shit.

But the point is that you are supposed to _learn_ from this, so what was it that you _learned._


End file.
